chillin' on the border of a bipolar disorder
by RosieCheeks101
Summary: Angela runs away from home and finds herself with her brother, but arguments soon erupt.


"Ange? What are you doing here?"

Angela hadn't actually been expecting Craig home tonight, she was sure her dad had mentioned him being out of town. Yet here he was with a pretty red head on his arm, "I.."

Craig sighed and turned to whisper something in the girl's ear, and she promptly huffed and stormed from the apartment, "She's pretty. Looks like Ellie," Angie mumbled, watching him.

He gave her a look, not directly responding, "You ran away again," he said instead. It wasn't a question, that much was obvious.

"Yeah.." she sighed. Clearly he'd already spoken to her father. She'd really been hoping she wouldn't have to explain herself straight away, lie and say her dad had sent her to visit, "But I have a good reason!"

Craig gave a short laugh and began to dig through his pockets, "Yeah, I'm sure you do," he muttered, pulling out his phone. She was up in a flash, lunging forward to catch him around the wrist and look up at him with pleading eyes.

"Don't call dad, please. Or at least give me a chance to explain myself first."

"It takes nearly three days to get to LA from Calgary, Angie. Joey called me yesterday, he's worried sick about you," he said simply, removing her hand from his wrist gently and giving it a light squeeze, "Let me talk to him, I'll tell him you're safe. Then we can talk."

Her shoulders slumped and she gave a small nod, moving back to the couch while he made the call.

She caught bits and pieces of the conversation as Craig moved into the kitchen, free hand shoved in his pocket.

"Joe, it's like one in the morning, sleep tonight and fly down tomorrow...I don't know how she travelled down here, I haven't had a chance to interrogate her yet...yeah yeah, love you too, you're such a dad."

Craig set his phone down on the bench and began clanging around in the kitchen, "I'm making us hot chocolate, come in here and tell me about your trip while I do that," he called over his shoulder, and Angela awkwardly wandered into the kitchen, hoisting herself onto the bench and swinging her legs, "So, how'd you get to LA?"

Angela sighed and recounted the story of the long two days she'd spent travelling on buses and trains to get there, eyes trained firmly on her hands clutched together in her lap, "I left dad a note, you know. I told him I'd be back in a week."

"Ange, you had to know he'd be worried sick," Craig said gently, placing a mug down beside her and moving so he could sit on a stool by the bench.

"He's always worried sick," she protested, "every time I act out he gets worried that I'm.."

"Bipolar?" Craig supplied after a moment of silence, "He regrets not realising I was bipolar sooner, he's just trying to make up for what he sees as a past mistake. You and I both know you could be gene-"

"What you and I both know is that you didn't get the crazy gene from mom!" Angela snapped, pushing to her feet to glare at him. Somewhere deep down she knew she should feel bad about the hurt expression that graced his face, but she hated having this stupid conversation over and over again, first with her dad and now Craig.

"I'm not crazy, Angela," Craig said calmly after a moment, the use of her full name the only indication he was anything other than totally fine, "I've gotten my act together."

Angela felt terrible even as the laughter bubbled up in her chest, "You came home at 2am smelling like alcohol and cigarettes, with a girl who looks like your quasi-girlfriend hanging off your arm. That doesn't sound like someone who's got his shit together."

This time she really did seem to strike a nerve, as Craig stood to dump her untouched hot chocolate down the drain and spoke without looking at her, "I'll take the couch, you can have my bed. I'll see you in the morning."

Angela hesitated, the guilt starting to build up in her chest as her flash of anger began to subside. She opened her mouth to say something before shaking her head and sliding off the bench, padding soundlessly into the bedroom and shutting the door firmly behind her.

She dug through Craig's drawers for something to wear, shrugging one of his t-shirts on before flopping onto the bed and curling up tightly. Despite all odds she eventually drifted into uneasy sleep, her tears drying on her cheeks.

When she woke the next morning - or later that morning, considering what time she'd gone to bed - the smell of pancakes wafted through the apartment. She was hesitant to leave the safe environment of the bedroom, but eventually she did, moving out into the living room to find Craig standing in the kitchen. The phone was pressed to his ear as he flipped a pancake, and when he turned and spotted her she waved silently.

"Yeah, hey, El. Ange is up so I'm gonna have to go, I'll talk to you later, bye," he hung up the phone quickly and set it down as she moved over to the bench, "Morning."

"How's Ellie?"

He raised an eyebrow and turned back to the pancakes, "Good, she's in Australia at the moment though, so it's about one in the morning for her. She couldn't sleep."

"That's one hell of a bill," Angela muttered as she sat down, watching him for a moment and sighing, "I was out of line last night. I was tired and angry and I took it out on you when I know you're just trying to help."

Humour was evident in his voice when he spoke, though he didn't look at her, "I don't know, 'quasi-girlfriend' is probably the best way I've ever heard anyone describe what me and Ellie have."

She huffed, "I'm trying to apologise, Craig," she complained, propping her chin up on her elbows.

"You don't have to apologise, Angie, you lashed out, we all do it."

She bit her tongue on the nasty response that threatened to slip out, instead giving him a watery smile, "What do you remember about mom?"

"Bits and pieces, I'm lucky that I was older when she died," Craig said simply, pushing a plate of pancakes towards her and sitting down, "I remember her favourite colour."

"Yellow," Angela interrupted with a smile.

"Yeah, it was. It reminded her of happiness," Craig said softly, "she painted my bedroom yellow. She would say it was to 'let the good vibes in'."

Angela smiled and dug into her pancakes, gesturing for Craig to keep talking.

"You know, my memories of mom.. they're really extreme. Like, I remember how happy she could be. But I have faint memories of her locking herself in her room and refusing to come out. I.. I know it's hard to think, but she could have been bipolar, Ange."

"I always thought your dad was.."

"He wasn't, I know that much," Craig shook his head, "He was royally messed up, and an abusive asshole, but I don't think he was bipolar."

Angela nodded her head slowly, considering for a moment before standing and moving around the table to wrap her arms around him tightly, "I love you."

Craig smiled and hugged her back tightly, "I love you too, Angie."


End file.
